Sansa could hear giggles as she stood in darkness, her eyes covered by a delicate silk scarf, embroidered with flowers by Margaery herself. Some of them came from the curvaceous, brunette Tyrell, she knew, others from her handmaidens who had guided Sansa through dark passages and down spiralling steps to what she thought was an isolated room deep in the bowels of the fortified keep. There were other noises in the room. Footsteps, some heavy, some lighter. The rustling sound of torches set into sconces on the walls. The boom of a heavy door closing on the room and sealing them all in.
"Can we take it off now my Lady?" Sansa did not recognise the voice… one of Margaery's followers directing the question to her lady.
"Please do. And then you can leave us." There was a chorus of disappointed sighs.
Light flooded her eyes and Sansa squinted trying to recognise the plain stone room. It was bare apart from a large four poster bed against one wall, silk and satins overflowing from it. She quickly patted down her hair and settled her skirts, making herself presentable for the sweet Lady Margaery. However, the look on her face was oddly triumphant.
"Happy name day Sansa!"
Sansa took in her 'gift'. In the flickering light she saw a row of men in animal masks and long thick cloaks, masking their bodies entirely and making them look quite sinister.
"Thank you… what is it?"
A tall young man with a smirking face she had not yet noticed clapped his hands then and the men dropped their cloaks as one. Well, almost as one. At the far end of the row from her the large figure reacted slower to the unspoken command and struggled a little with the clasp.
Sansa gasped. Underneath their cloaks the men… no, not all men… the people wore nothing. Almost nothing. They wore simple loin cloths over their… private parts. The one that was quite obviously female only wore the loin cloth, her small pert breasts brazenly exposed, face hidden by a frog mask. Now Sansa saw that the masks only covered their faces and that the woman's left her fair hair free to cascade in straight lines down her back.
Margaery swept the uncertain Sansa into a sisterly embrace.
"They are for you!" She pecked her on the check quickly. "Well, one of them is. You have to pick. And then you can play…"
Sansa blushed brightly. "But I… I…"
My dearest Sansa…Some women like tall men, some like short men, some like hairy men and some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men, pretty girls... Most women don't know what they like until they've tried it, and sadly so many of us get to try so little before we're old and grey" She smiled warmly. "And I thought you might like to get that chance… now that you're old enough…"
Margaery drifted between the choices, all of them standing statue like as she delicately touched them.
"Here's a bald one… maybe too old? This one has lovely deep dark skin, I think he's from the Summer Isles. This one has shaved all his body hair away for you. But this one…" She stopped and frowned as she reached the one at the far end. "This one is rather hairy… Olyvar, did I order one like this?"
The young man shrugged and poured wine to pass to Sansa which she took with both hands and drank nervously. "You just said a selection… "
"Good muscles though… and scars. This one was a fighter once. Come Sansa, come and see!"
Sansa drank the rest of her wine quickly and joined Margaery by the final offering. His face was hidden behind a hawk's mask, and he loomed over her and the other men. She cautiously reached to touch his arm, running her fingers through the dark coarse hair there. She watched as his skin reacted and the hairs stood on end. Margaery did the same on his other arm, but moving on to drift fingertips over his chest.
"Hmm, maybe a little too… rough for my tastes. Come and see the woman too Sansa. She's very soft…."
"In a moment Margaery." She followed Margaery's path across the warrior's chest with her own fingertips, noting the raised scars from blades that lay there. Margaery smirked and turned her attention to the woman, running fingers through her hair and around her belly above the loin cloth.
"What can I do with them… with the one I choose?"
Olyvar nudged Margaery then who was a little distracted by the blonde.
"Oh, almost everything, my sweet." She smirked and started to untie the girl's loin cloth, letting it fall to the floor. "With the girl there is little concern about… your maidenhood." Sansa did not think that she could blush any more than she already had, but she seemed to be wrong. "She can use her mouth on you, her fingers. Or you can do the same to her… like this."
Margaery swept her skirts to one side as she knelt before the blonde woman, placing both hands on her thighs to gently part them as she stood. A small pink tongue emerged from her mouth and was placed between the woman's legs, into a place where a few fair hairs curled. Sansa left the warrior and moved closer to see what Margaery was doing to her. The woman looked as though she was struggling not to move, keeping her head looking straight forward. But eventually, under Margaery's attentions, she started groaning, letting her head drop back. The other offerings were equally trying to remain in the position they had been stood in. But Sansa was shocked to notice that some of the men's… private areas… were pushed against the simple loin cloths, even if they still looked straight ahead as commanded.
Margaery stood and wiped her mouth delicately as the blonde woman recovered from what the smirking girl had done to her. Taking in Sansa's confused face Margaery took her hand.
"Sweetling… you do know about a woman's release… don't you?"
"Men… they leave their seed in the woman they lie with. To make babies…"
"And women have their own release that has nothing to do with making babies. In fact… if you chose one of the men you must be careful not to allow them to take your maidenhood with fingers… or their larger finger." She moved then to one of the men, a shortish young man with freckles on his chest and auburn hair, wearing a fox mask. She untied the loin cloth as she had done with the woman and exposed his manhood. Sansa moved closer to see. She was not sure what she had expected it to be like. The way that some of the maids gossiped about the horrors of the wedding night she had half expected a monstrous thing with sharp edges and metal parts! But it was almost endearing, lying there against his curling hair, twitching occasionally as Margaery displayed it. Then it started to grow and Sansa laid a hand across her mouth in surprise. As it grew Margaery ran a hand upon it, urging it on it seemed to Sansa. The young man arched his back and panted slightly.
"Will he…? I mean… could he have his release?"
"He could. Do you wish to see?" Margaery stopped and the man groaned again in disappointment. "Do you want to try?"
There was a curious noise behind her, as though one of the gifts had moved, shifting his feet on the ground.
Margaery looked pointedly at Olyvar. "I thought you said they were well trained." He shrugged and went back to his drink, his eyes resting lazily on the auburn haired man's proudly standing member.
"I… I don't know that I could." Sansa stuttered; reaching towards Olyvar for more wine, but already feeling light headed. Margaery planted her hands on her hips and frowned at the red haired girl.
"I think maybe my present is wrong for you…" She gestured to Olyvar, as though to dismiss them.
"No… no, it's so thoughtful of you. I just don't know what to do…"
"Yes, you need a teacher. Olyvar, which would you recommend?"
He flourished his hand along the row. "They are all well trained in the arts. She should just pick one… and then you and I can take the others away…" He smiled at the auburn haired man then.
"Sansa dear, pick one."
She walked up and down the line of offerings, not knowing what to do, her heart in her mouth. She reached the end of the line for the second time and paused by the warrior. She looked up into the eyes that she could just see through the hawk mask. They were deep and dark. They almost reminded her of…
"This one."
"Humph… the others seem finer in comparison" grumbled Olyvar.
"No… I like this one."
"Very well." He clapped his hands and the others picked up their cloaks as one and turned to file out of the room.
Margaery came to Sansa then, clasping her hands. "Just… try things. But remember what I said about your maidenhood." She kissed her on both cheeks and followed the others out, closing the door behind her.
Sansa walked around her chosen gift, taking in the broad expanse of his back, the muscles that dipped into his loin cloth, the dark hair that hung in thick strands from his head and onto his neck.
"What do I do now?" She whispered under her breath.
Suddenly the man moved quicker than she could react to and lifted her by her waist, taking her to the bed and lifting her upon it. She went to protest but his body was over hers and she could not move. But then he stopped, staying like that for what felt like an age, his hawk face over hers, his dark eyes searching her face, questioning.
"Yes. Yes, please".
He released his grip on her waist to lift up her skirts, exposing her small clothes. She heard him remove the mask, but could not see his face with her skirts in the way.
At first she could only feel his breath against her thighs. He held them as he brought his face closer to her… secret place. Something strange was happening to her there. She felt as though she was simultaneously melting and tensing up in expectation all at once. Then she felt his coarse fingers over her small clothes, over her. But as large and rough as they seemed, they were delicate in moving the soft silks aside and in touching her down… there. She had never experimented with touching herself so the sensation was completely new and when his fingers found a particular spot she was surprised to find her body twisting in the silks of the bed, a strange fire building in her, between her legs. When his tongue replaced his fingers, she closed her eyes and groaned. Gods, she sounded like the blonde woman! She giggled, stifling it with a hand. But she hadn't let go as the woman had…
She was disappointed when she felt him move away from her, reaching for something on the bed.
"Tie it around yer eyes." He passed her a silk scarf. That voice… was it. It couldn't be!
She quickly tied the scarf around her eyes. His weight shifted as he moved from between her legs to rest some of his weight between them. She felt his manhood then, hard against the thigh where his face had just been. It felt massive and she was scared.
"No… please, I have to keep my maidenhood…"
He chuckled, deep and low in his throat. "There's other games we can play."
She felt his hands on the front of her dress. Then he tore it, exposing her corset, and the tender breasts that pushed up against it. She wanted him to release them, not sure how it would feel if he ran those rough hands over the swell of them, but wanting to know. "Please… please"
But she felt his lips on the soft skin that emerged from the top of the corset. He dipped his head and covered her in kisses along the curve of her collarbone, and then onto the roundness of her breasts. Finally, knowing that she was aching for it, he tore the corset as well, releasing her breasts for him. He ran his thumbs over her nipples and replaced them with his mouth as she moaned. His mouth was soft on them, but his tongue rasped over their sensitive skin. Then his hand was back between her legs and she moaned louder when he found and rubbed a part of her down there.
She felt close to… something. And she ached when he stopped his touches. Then she felt him move further up the bed, and take her hand, guiding it to his manhood. It was large, but soft and warm to the touch. He left her hand there, and she knew she could remove it if she wished. But she was curious to know if it made him feel as she did when he had touched her. So she started to move her hand up and down his length. A low groan reassured her that he was feeling the same pleasure and she made her hand move faster, spurred on by the sounds he was making. A victorious smile spread across her face.
"Gods!" He groaned louder and shook. Then there was silence filled by his panting. Her hand felt… wet.
"That weren't supposed to happen yet…" She felt him drop to the bed by her side and heard his deep breathing.
"Maybe you should not have tried to ruin my birthday present…" She smiled, eyes still covered by the scarf. He laughed darkly, knowing the game was over.
"I was down by the cellars, looking for some… Well I saw them sneaking your gifts in. Heard Littlefinger's boy say they were presents for some highborn ladies' name day. Well, not many highborn ladies having their name days today."
"So you took someone's place."
"He'll wake with a headache, but he'll be fine."
She rolled towards him, and removed the scarf, looking deep into his dark eyes.
"Well… I still haven't had my present. Not fully at least."
"Yes, my lady." He shifted himself down the bed to rest between her legs, and under her skirts, again. Touching her there again. "And yer should. Don't a woman reap whatever she sows on her name day for the rest of the year?"
But she could not answer, she was already spinning closer to the edge and to her release.